


Susan Bones's List of Worst Days Ever

by katmarajade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Basilisk(s), F/M, Gossip, Hospitals, Pining, Secret Crush, St Mungo's Hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petrified on the job, Hit Wizard Susan Bones lands herself in St Mungo's under the care of Healer Terry Boot. He's aloof, never smiles, and can't stand her—or so she's always thought. Frozen but aware, she hears a lot of hospital gossip and begins to see him in a new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Susan Bones's List of Worst Days Ever

Susan Bones's List of Worst Days Ever was not a short list. To be fair, her entire family had been murdered over the course of two wars by a nasty specimen of evil called Rookwood and Voldemort himself, which understandably resulted in really awful days. The top of the list was definitely the day during her seventh year when she heard Rookwood had finally found her parents' hiding spot. Her Aunt Amelia's murder the summer before that was a solid second. She was too young to remember the day on which her other relatives were killed, but she called it the Third Worst Day out of respect and general principle.

Getting Petrified on the job was now officially Number Four on the list.

She worked as a Hit Wizard, bringing in all manner of horrible characters, which was no easy feat. Jobs that called for Hit Wizards instead of the standard Auror contingent had a tendency to go pear-shaped in a hurry. Deadly hexes, smoking craters in the earth, plenty of rubble—that sort of thing. That she could handle.

But seriously, who the hell kept a bloody Basilisk in their cellar? Not only was keeping a giant snake for a pet/bodyguard out of style these days (If even Voldemort couldn't make the whole Dark-Creature-as-a-pet thing work, who could?) but they had to be a nightmare to take care of.

She hadn't come to the decision to put today as Fourth Worst Day Ever lightly, but by the time she was sprawled in a hospital bed at St Mungo's, she had no doubt left in her mind for the following reasons:

Reason 1: Her record had been nearly flawless before today's incident. She really hated being taken down on a job.

Reason 2: Her standing in the (totally unofficial and disavowed) Hit Wizard Pool will have completely plummeted. This year's prize was a week in Majorca, and Susan _really_ wanted an excuse to drink piña coladas on the beach and read an entire novel in one sitting. She and Davies were currently neck and neck for the top spot, but it was already late November, so her chances at regaining the top spot were pretty dismal, especially if she was stuck in hospital.

Reason 3: Being Petrified was not only terrible and terrifying but also incredibly boring. If she had to be stuck without moving or the ability to interact, it would be far preferable if she were bloody unconscious. At the very least, she might get a decent nap that way, which she could really use. (Memo to self: sleep more.)

Reason 4: She'd been undercover, which meant she had been wearing a rather impractical skirt. Of course, she'd managed to get Petrified in the most undignified position imaginable and was currently flashing her faded pink knickers to everyone at St Mungo's. Talk about embarrassing. (Memo to self: go shopping for new knickers as soon as possible.)

Reason 5: She was stuck in St Mungo's, and there weren't any mature Mandrakes available because who the hell runs into a fucking Basilisk on a Tuesday afternoon? (Apparently just her.)

And finally, Reason 6: She had overheard one of her nurses, Bridget Bletchley, saying that her assigned Healer was none other than Terry Boot. He was an arrogant, aloof (albeit gorgeous) bore who never smiled and had a particular knack for making her feel like an absolute idiot whenever she saw him.

She still vividly remembered the first time they met. Professor Snape had paired them together in second year Potions, and she'd managed to destroy not only half his school supplies but also melted and spilled an entire cauldron full of Sleeping Draught all over the dungeon! She was pretty sure that was the only T he'd ever received at Hogwarts, and it was all her fault. One of the cleverest boys in school, she heard he'd got ten O.W.L.s and probably as many N.E.W.T.s as well, but she'd been too embarrassed to ask Hannah, her usual source for gossip, about him, lest her curiosity be construed as some sort of pathetic crush, which it was categorically _not_.

She was not interested in someone who flaunted his superiority by whispering corrections to her answers at the biweekly Leaky Cauldron Pub Quizzes Hannah insisted she attend. (Even if that was the reason her scores had improved dramatically.) And she certainly wasn't smitten with a haughty Healer who never smiled and seemed to enjoy giving her odd looks and asking awkward questions whenever she ran into him at Anthony Goldstein's Halloween party or Ernie MacMillan's semi-annual DA reunions.

Not to mention how incredibly annoying his expressionless _hmmm_ s and _I see_ s were whenever he was the one to sign off on her Return to Work documents, which were required every time a Hit Wizard was struck by a curse on the job, no matter how minor. The visit after she'd been hit with an overzealous Cheering Charm that left her giggling so hysterically that she couldn't even lift the curse had been particularly humiliating. She imagined that a serious, sombre sot like Terry hated fun and happy sounds like laughter anyway. Not that she'd been feeling fun _or_ happy that day!

However much he bothered her, she had to admit that he'd turned into a damn impressive man. His swottiness was now just plain brilliance, and his former cuteness had matured into full-blown hotness. Tall and slim with broad shoulders and long, lean legs, he had grown into his previously gangly form. His black hair was cut in a short, neat style, which looked far better on him than the bowl cut he'd worn throughout their school years. So _of course_ he was her Healer for this, her most embarrassing hour. Really, she thought bitterly, life was just not fair!

There was a slight commotion outside her door, and she shouted a good dozen curse words inside her head because she was unable to move her head to see what was going on. Finally, the door opened. Someone stepped inside, and a woman's laugh was cut off as the door clicked shut again behind her visitor.

Terry—or perhaps she should be thinking of him as Healer Boot—stepped into her narrow line of sight. His dark eyes flashed, intense and inquisitive, and his expression was as schooled as ever, giving away nothing. Though there was no obvious look of distaste, she felt like he was looking at her with disdain and exasperation, as though he couldn't quite believe that she was still finding new and ever more ridiculous ways to get into trouble.

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself before having to deal with her again, and stepped closer.

"Hello, Susan," he said softly, an almost affectionate tone to his voice. She was surprised but soon decided she'd been imagining things when he began to explain some of her case details in the same brisk, matter-of-fact tone she knew so well.

He'd almost finished explaining the steps they were taking both to speed up the Mandrakes' development here at St. Mungo's and to find alternative sources when a nurse walked in.

"You do know she can't hear you," said Romilda Vane, obviously amused.

"We don't know that for certain," he responded, his brow furrowing. "Our knowledge of Basilisk Petrifications is rather limited, and the only recent cases were all caused by the same Basilisk at Hogwarts. There are references in some older literature to Petrified patients being aware of their surroundings during their incapacitation."

Romilda laughed and shook her head. "What is going on with you? Our hot-shot Healer Boot never believes in unproven theories and stories. You're all about the facts." She said the last part in a deep, mocking voice, and Susan watched the slightest flicker of irritation flit across Terry's otherwise still face.

"I hardly think explaining the patient's situation to her is extreme. On the off chance she remains cognizant during this, I would imagine she is scared and confused."

He had that right, Susan thought.

Then Terry's eyes flashed over to her legs, which were awkwardly splayed showcasing her pink knickers. His snort of disapproval made her want to laugh. Apparently, she could offend his sensibilities even when she couldn't speak!

"Romilda, bring in another sheet to cover Ms Bones's lower half. I hardly think she would want to be on display in this manner. Let's try to show a bit of decorum, shall we?" There was a definite bite to his voice, and Susan wanted to hug him, she was so grateful. That thought made her laugh inside her head. She could only imagine the horrified look on Terry's face if she threw her arms around him. She had a feeling he wasn't much for public displays of affection, even from those he actually _liked_ , and she was definitely not on that list.

"Bridget was right—you do have it bad," Romilda said with a mocking laugh, as she went to find a sheet for Susan.

Wondering what that nonsense was all about, Susan observed as Terry's jaw tightened and an actual blush stained his cheeks. What in Merlin's name was _that_ about? Implying that Terry, of all people, might fancy a depressingly average in every way disaster magnet like her was laughable. Judging by Terry's face, he was insulted by the very idea. She couldn't help but feel a bit offended herself at how horrifying he obviously found the prospect.

She certainly wasn't that bad! Sure, she had a weakness for ice cream, which resulted in thicker thighs than she'd like on her otherwise fit frame, and she definitely swore too much. She had the social graces of a Confunded hippopotamus, and while she sometimes envied her poised, pretty, polite friends, her negotiation style leaned more towards a good hex or a punch in the face.

Though she might not be dainty or delicate, she was tough, fast, and powerful, which was more impressive really, and she'd earned a coveted position on the elite Hit Wizard squad. While she wasn't clever on the same scale as Terry or Hermione Granger, she was no idiot either, and she quite preferred her street smarts to book learning.

Terry might not be her favourite person, but at least he generally showed her common courtesy. The rest of the hospital staff seemed convinced that she was completely unaware of her surroundings and acted accordingly. Of course, she couldn't speak or interact with them, but it was frustrating when even the few people she saw ignored her. If nothing else, she was getting caught up on hospital gossip, as both her nurses seemed to be dishing dirt on their colleagues constantly. They also seemed to enjoy pushing Terry's buttons, which Susan found quite amusing.

"Oh, Healer Boot, they're thinking of transferring care of your patient here over to Healer MacMillan. I told them I didn't think you'd mind," Romilda said lightly.

"To MacMillan? Are they mad? He can't handle this case!"

"He can't handle a comatose patient who is just lying here waiting for the cure to be ready?"

"The case is far more complex than that," snapped Terry, suddenly buzzing around Susan's head and muttering various incantations, some of which Susan was pretty sure were bogus. Merlin on a moped, this man was possessive about his patients. Pity, that. She'd always got on quite well with Ernie, and she imagined he'd be loads more fun than Dr Expressionless.

"So, I hear you've got quite the history with Ms Bones here. What's the story?" asked Bridget in a hushed voice, as if she were expecting some sort of sordid and scandalous tale.

"Erm," Terry paused in his daily series of assessment charms and actually gave Susan a look that bordered on fond. "We were partnered in Potions class in our second year."

Oh, for Merlin's sake, not _this_ story!

"I remember she had this huge, crooked-toothed grin."

Good Godric! Must he bring up her formerly crooked teeth? They were straight now, thank you very much. (Well, mostly.)

"She always wore her hair in one long plait, and she accidentally dipped the tip of her braid into my inkwell, and she wound up knocking the entire thing over. Ink _everywhere_! Ruined an entire roll of parchment and two quills."

She mentally cringed at that memory. One of the first things she'd done when she'd left school and moved out of her parents' house was to chop off her waist length hair, which her mother had never let her cut.

"Then she destroyed our Sleeping Draught. I still don't know what she did, but somehow she managed to melt through my new pewter cauldron. Sleeping Draught starting spilling everywhere, and it actually knocked out four of our classmates. "

Oh, bloody hell. She'd forgotten about that part!

"It would have been far worse, but even though she was truly awful at Potions…"

Thanks for that! She pouted for a nanosecond before her rational side kicked in. He wasn't wrong.

"She was always so quick thinking and clever. She turned sideways and gave the entire cauldron this amazing kick, and it went flying across the room into the emptiest corner. I now know how strong that type of Sleeping Draught was, and I shudder to think what could have happened if she hadn't done that. She and I might have slept through half the term if it had all spilled on us."

For the first time since being Petrified, Susan was grateful for her frozen expression because she was sure she'd be gaping in a most unattractive manner otherwise. What the hell was he talking about? She'd destroyed most of his school supplies, melted his cauldron, and then squealed and knocked the entire thing over. It had been one of the most humiliating experiences of her life, and here he was making her sound like Wonder Witch or something!

"It was the first and only time I ever received a T on a school assignment—Merlin, was Snape livid!"

She _knew_ it! She felt a pang of guilt but tried to ignore it. He had managed to become a highly successful Healer at the top hospital in Great Britain, so obviously it hadn't been that devastating.

"The oddest thing was," he said, his voice quiet and oddly wistful. "I didn't even care about the grade."

Huh?

"Wow," Bridget said, sounding amused. "That long, huh?"

"Oh, do shut up, Bletchley," Terry snapped, all softness gone from his tone. He scribbled something on the chart at the foot of Susan's bed and stalked out of the room, leaving her to wonder what in the name of Merlin's saggy pants had just happened.  
  
She was still mulling it over that evening when Bridget and one of the nursing interns came in to change the linens on Susan's bed.

"You are so lucky to be working with Terry Boot," enthused the young nurse.

"Oh, he can be just as much of an arse as the rest of them," joked Bridget.

"Yes, but what a fine arse!" They both snickered, and Susan found herself feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"Don't get me wrong, if I thought for a second that I could get him to fancy me, I'd be all over that," Bridget said.

"You are gorgeous, clever, and funny—how could he not be interested?"

"Oh, you're new to this ward, aren't you? I forgot! No, Boot is all business and never flirts with anyone. At first we thought it was just because he is so professional, but then this one showed up, and, oh my goodness, you should have seen the look on his face!"

Susan's mind spun with questions. Were they talking about _her_? She was so confused.

"I have never seen Mr Repressed that hot and bothered. He insisted that she be given her own private room and took charge of her case when it was _way_ too simple to warrant our top Spell Damage Specialist and there were plenty of junior Healers in the Creature-Induced Injuries department available."

"Why?"

Susan wondered the same thing. She'd had no idea.

"Oh, isn't it obvious? Our hottie healer is head over heels in love with her."

Wait! He _what_? There was no way that was true. He didn't even _like_ her. He always looked so annoyed by her! He rarely spoke more than a few awkward sentences to her—except for this week, and that was only because she was unconscious!

"Really?" The nurse's shock and disbelief mirrored Susan's.

If she'd been able to move, she would have tossed and turned all night. As it was, she simply lay there, frozen and confused, and didn't sleep a wink.

Usually, Terry appeared in her room at exactly 9:15. He scrubbed his hands with soap and water before casting a Cleansing Charm for good measure, always telling her what he was doing as he performed each action, which she appreciated, as her sightlines were extremely narrow. He then proceeded to perform a lengthy series of diagnostics, make low mumbling noises that she was sure she wasn't meant to understand, assure her that all was well physically, and encourage her to keep her spirits up—that they were close to having the Mandrake Restorative Draught completed.

The next morning, however, Terry was conspicuously absent. In his place, another Healer, her old school chum Ernie MacMillan, stopped by. After some heavy flirting with Romilda, he performed a shorter set of diagnostic Charms than Terry usually did. Afterward, he frowned, scrawling his messy notes beneath Terry's pristine recordkeeping. (That was a trait that had annoyed her greatly when they were Potions partners but she now could appreciate.)

"So what brings you over to my ward, and how long do I get to keep you?" said Romilda in a throaty whisper. Susan could practically feel the excessive eye batting from across the room, though she couldn't actually see them, as neither thought to stay within her limited field of vision.

"I'm just here as a favour. Boot asked me to cover this shift for him because he knows that I'm one of the best Healers in the department." Ernie sounded as pompous as ever, and Susan wanted to roll her eyes. However, her bigger concern was why Terry had skipped out of work. Was he ill? The thought made her feel a little queasy. Did he have something important to be doing? If so, was it more important than unpetrifying _her_? Or maybe he was trying to avoid her. The thought stung far more than it probably should.

"Where's he scarpered off to? Don't tell me he finally decided to take a personal day! Or better yet, an actual holiday. Merlin knows, if anyone could use it, it's Healer Boot. The man never takes a day off!"

Susan felt a rush of gratitude for Romilda, who voiced her very question. Ernie cleared his throat, and she wanted to smirk, because she knew that sound well after seven years in Hufflepuff with him. He was obviously annoyed that the focus was shifting away from him. Susan thought he was a great bloke and actually considered him a good friend, but the big-shouldered twit was awfully full of himself sometimes.

"He had important business to take care of, he said. Mentioned a number of International Portkeys, so he must be travelling pretty far. One of those things can transport you nearly two thousand miles. I have close contacts in the Department of Magical Transportation, you see, so I know quite a bit about it actually."

"That seems very unlike him," Romilda mused, like she wasn't sure whether to disbelieve Ernie entirely or to take him at his word and embrace the juicy piece of gossip he offered.

"Well, I've never seen a man _that_ bent out of shape unless there was a lady involved, if you catch my meaning."

"No!" hissed Romilda, obviously delighted. "He's been fielding Floo calls and owl post from a number of sources all over the world these past few days looking for a more suitable source of Mandrakes. You know the ones we've got downstairs are barely getting spots yet—it's going to be a while before they're even mature enough to brew the Restorative Draught for this one here."

Susan's ears were burning, and she couldn't help but be annoyed at how willing people were to discuss her as if she weren't even there. Could Terry possibly have travelled across the world to expedite her recovery? The idea was mind-blowing.

"Oh," said Ernie thoughtfully, and Susan was glad to hear her friend again in that voice instead of the smarmy Casanova from earlier. "That would make sense. Her numbers have been steadily declining since she was admitted, and from the limited data we have on Basilisk Petrifications, the effects can vary significantly from creature to creature. Perhaps it depends on what sort of lens she viewed it through or the serpent's age. We're not really sure about the particulars. It's a fascinating subject."

Romilda let out a scoff, and Ernie cleared his throat.

"Well, it would be a lot more fascinating if it weren't my friend lying there." He took a deep, fortifying breath. "Besides, Boot's been arse over teakettle for Susan since our second year at Hogwarts—everyone knows that. Only times I've ever seen him act rashly are when she's involved. I remember once during that … _awful_ seventh year, listening to one of the Carrows come down hard on Susan right there in the Great Hall. We all just sat there, wishing there was something we could do, but we didn't—I didn't, I guess—have the guts to try and stop it."

"I remember looking away and seeing Boot over at the Ravenclaw table staring at her with this almost mad sort of look on his face. Suddenly, he jumped up on the bloody table, smashing the platters of potatoes and such, and started screaming. He just starts shouting that Harry Potter had broken into Gringotts and got away on a dragon. It wasn't until later that we found out what he was saying was actually true, but the most important thing was that he got the Carrows' attention. They both swooped in on him, dragged him away, and Anthony said they didn't see him again for three days."

Suddenly, Susan's heart felt like it might explode. That was _the_ day, the worst of them all. She'd been trying so hard to stay strong and keep a stiff upper lip, even though she'd just got the news that Rookwood had found her parents. After Voldemort himself had come to kill Aunt Amelia, Rookwood had sent them a terrifying letter about collecting a full set of Bones. He was the bastard who'd killed her Uncle Edgar and Aunt Julia, both fierce and amazing from what Aunt Amelia had told her. Even worse, he'd murdered her grandparents and her cousins along with them, innocents all.

Her parents, however, weren't fighters; they'd never been part of the Order or any type of resistance. So they went into hiding, and she returned to Hogwarts, the safest place in the world, so they claimed.

Now, ten years later, she was finding out that Terry Boot had saved her on the worst day of her life and had take the punishment that had been intended for her. Not only that, he'd been in love with her for years, and it seemed that she was the only one who hadn't known any of this.

The embarrassing pub quizzes, the awkward conversations at parties, the blank stares she'd always believed meant he thought her a complete idiot. Her entire world was turning on its head, and she was frozen in place, unable to cry, unable to scream, unable to laugh. And she really wasn't sure which of those three she wanted to do right now.

"Woah!" Ernie's sharp tone broke through Susan's frenzied thoughts. "Her heart rate is dangerously high. Get me an infusion of aconite _now_!"

Recognising the alarm in Ernie's voice, Susan tried desperately to calm herself, but after a week locked in her own body, she struggled to control her reactions.

Suddenly, a firm, familiar voice broke through. " _Mollesco_!"

Her breathing returned to normal as Terry's fiercely flashing brown eyes came into focus. He held a phial of russet liquid up to her lips and gently, patiently poured it down her unhelpful throat. A few minutes after drinking the last of the potion, Susan could blink and move her fingers and toes slightly. Within an hour, she was completely restored and staring into worried brown eyes.

Before today, she'd never given any thought to Terry's eyes. She wasn't even entirely sure she could have told you they were brown. However, something had shifted, something deep and vital inside of her, and now all she was aware of were the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen, chestnut brown with flecks of bronze, framed by straight, dark lashes.

"You have brown eyes," she managed.

The aforementioned eyes narrowed, and Terry spoke to her in a slow voice using very simple words. "Susan, do you know where you are?"

Oh, great! Now he really would think she was a complete idiot. Her first words in a week— _You have brown eyes._ What in the name of Circe's lacy unmentionables was _wrong_ with her?

He held up a glass of water, and she took grateful gulps, soothing her parched throat and finding her voice.

"Terry," she said, testing the name out and finding it tasted sweeter than it ever had before.

"Yes, it's Terry. I'm your Healer. You were—"

"Petrified on the job. Yes, I remember. Sorry, my mind's a bit all over the place. It's been a mad week."

"Yes," Terry said with the tiniest of smiles. "I imagine it has. You're all right now. You should be back on your feet in just a few days."

"Thanks to you," she said, amazed at how many emotions she could now see flickering across his handsome face. He didn't display his feelings in loud or obvious ways, but they were there—all of them—just beneath the surface. She could see them now in the crinkle of his eyes, the set of his jaw, and the twitch of his lips. It was incredible, and it was beautiful.

"Yes, well, the other Healers and nurses and I are committed to providing the best possible care for—"

"Terry," she interrupted, wondering briefly if she would ever get tired of the way his name sounded tripping across her tongue. "I know you went above and beyond for me. This room, the Mandrakes, I just …" she paused for a moment but rushed to continue when the first hints of fear and worry coloured his face.

"So, I hear you're in love with me." Oh, for fuck's sake! She was pants at this sort of thing. Aunt Amelia always told her that she was as subtle as a stampeding Hippogriff. "It's okay that you are. I mean, it's good. I just … why did you never tell me?"

She felt her insecurities swarming inside of her like agitated bees, as she waited for a confirmation, a reassurance, _anything_ to make her feel like she wasn't a complete idiot for once. The bitter thought that this might all have been one huge misunderstanding, or worse yet, a nasty joke, stung in her gut.

"So I take it you were able to hear what was going on around you," he said, breathing deeply through his nose as if to steady himself.

"Yeah. The nurses have really big mouths."

"Demonstrably." His voice was quiet, which wasn't unusual, but Susan thought she detected a slight waver.

"Well, the nurses and good old Ernie, of course. He can't keep his mouth shut either," she added.

Terry looked like he was considering storming out of the room and hexing every person with whom she'd come into contact during her stay.

"So, is it true?" She worried her lip, not sure how to take his reaction.

He just stared into her eyes. She felt the power of his gaze burn into her and set fire to her heart, warmth radiating to every inch of her. How had she ever thought him expressionless? There was more in that one piercing, perfect, passionate look than he could have said in ten thousand words.

She simply smiled in response, and seeing that changed his face entirely. His eyes danced wildly, his lips turned up into a gorgeous grin, and his cheeks flushed.

Heart pounding and cheeks aching from the too-big smile on her face, she decided that perhaps it was time to start a new list, and today definitely topped Susan Bones's List of Best Days Ever.  



End file.
